This is what Living Feels Like
by thedandevil
Summary: The glass and rubble's been swept away, for Foggy Nelson, it seems Matt has as well. His worst fear was that his best friend wouldn't come back after a night of being Daredevil. And as far as he and the others know, its finally come true. What happens to residents of New York and Hell's Kitchen when their devil is gone?
1. Chapter 1

He tensed his jaw and looked down. It was all he could do… grind his teeth together to keep from screaming out. Keep his eyes locked on the floor to avoid Karen's broken stare. Rub his hands on his trousers so he had something to do. Anything.

To keep himself as far from the situation as possible. So he could, even if for a single moment, distance himself from Matt's funeral.

Foggy Nelson knew this would happen eventually. He'd told Murdock the same. If you spend enough time playing the devil, hell's gonna catch up eventually. But sitting here in a pew, in a church far too empty for someone like Matthew felt...wrong. Father Lantom's words were just a background song to the incisive arguing in his head. Voices analysing the situation and showing him each way it could've turned out. Showing Foggy all the ways in which he had failed his friend. If he hadn't been so selfish he could have helped. If he put his ego aside they could have worked together. If he believed in their small but hopeful little firm like Karen had then Matthew wouldn't have been forced into his nighttime activities. If only If only If only.

Matt Murdock would still be alive. But he wasn't and there was nothing he could do about it now.

A flicker brought his attention and he pulled himself out of his thoughts, with a deep and sharp inhale. The motion's slow, each movement his muscles groan in protest trying to drag him back to himself, and to stay away from reality as long as possible. But it's a damn shame he's already looked up to the dripping candle wax and before he can do anything about it he's made eye contact with someone on the pew to the right. A handful of people sit on the right aisle, disperse, non sitting directly next to each other. They don't have to say it but it's clear they don't want to be there. But who could blame them. Who could blame any of them.

Jessica stares back at him with a glazed look on her eyes. Deep shades of purple and brown hollow her eyes, making it obvious she hasn't slept well, if at all. How well did she know him? Did she know how much he had done? Not only as Daredevil but as Matthew? As someone who sacrificed everything he had, including his life only to help people? What goddamn right did she even have to be here? Any of them for that matter, They only knew him for a week, and that week cost his best friend his life. He clutched his fist and felt his nails carve out shapes on his palms. The bone crawling to the surface of his skin, itching to hit something, but before he could respond Jessica looked back down with her emotionless eyes parting from his, and just like that he opened his fists, not knowing what to do anymore. Being angry felt too tiring suddenly.

Anger wouldn't help him heal. Sadness couldn't help him heal. And he suddenly realized nothing could, at least for the moment. The church felt as empty as he did, with the thick stone blocks separating him from the outside world. The cool humid air inside the church heard only muffled sounds from the people in it. Himself..Karen… and the only other people who knew who Matt really was sat on the other side of the church, not feeling nearly valid enough to sit with them.

They're right. They shouldn't because they lost a Defender, just another hero in this fucked up city.

And as Foggy sat there watching the melting wax drip painstakingly slow, and hearing Karen's ragged breathing, he realized that he lost his brother, and no matter who he blamed the simple fact was that somewhere at the bottom of Midland Circle was Matthew's body. And all the people he helped and touched and saved wouldn't know it. That in the end only a full pew worth's people would mourn for him.

So here he sat, and all Foggy Nelson could do as Father Lantom closed his bible and ended his sermon, along with the memorial, was nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

" **Now he's gone, I don't know why**

 **And 'till this day, sometimes I cry**

 **He didn't even say goodbye**

 **He didn't take the time to lie**

 **Bang bang, he shot me down**

 **Bang bang, I hit the ground**

 **Bang bang, that awful sound**

 **Bang bang, my baby shot me down"**

 **Bang Bang - Nancy Sinatra**

"Do you wish you'd kept your secret to yourself?"

That was one of the last things she'd said to him.

Before they were under attack and she was forced to play house in the precinct, Matt had met with her, at a diner. She didn't even make it a whole breakfast, just a coffee. And the pair hadn't even been sitting down for long enough for the drinks to get cold.

She was just so angry at him. Mad didn't do her emotions justice. What she felt was a deep boiling rage that everything she thought she knew was just bluff, an act, it was a mask he wore. The months they spent together, the weeks she'd let herself fall deeper and deeper into his spell were just part of a persona that only existed from nine to five.

Of course, she never knew this for certain.

She never asked...she was too hurt and angry at him to give him the privilege of lying to her again. She never tried to understand. She shot him down before he could even open his mouth.

But when she walked away from that diner she felt different somehow. The hurt and the pain of being lied to changed from the instantaneous shatter she felt in her chest whenever she thought of Matt to a dull thumping pain. It was always there, but if she willed herself to ignore it she could...eventually. But now she realized that there was more to her feelings towards Matt than just ordinary anger. There was a feeling of despair. There was no getting back the man she thought she knew.

Daredevil wasn't a person to her before. He was a figure, a hero looking down at the city from behind a suit of armour and crime-fighting skills. She was sensible enough to realize that he was a person behind the mask, but God that mask, that damn mask made it near impossible. Whenever she heard of that masked man helping someone, saving someone, or even beating someone, she knew she was safe. She knew that Hell's Kitchen was safe. And the feeling was so overwhelming that this man was magnified to god-like proportions. He couldn't simply be a regular person. Someone who needed caffeine to get their morning started, or someone who took the subway to avoid early morning traffic along Manhattan.

No… an ordinary person couldn't do the things he did. Physically of course, but Daredevil was so much more than just punches and acrobacy. An ordinary person couldn't ignite the hope that had been in every resident of the Kitchen for months. Because even when things seemed darkest, like when Frank was terrifying everyone out there and chaos ran through the streets, people knew that the Devil was still out there. And that eventually, somehow some way, things would turn out fine in the end. He was the one who provided hope into those who needed it, and fear into those who deserved… it couldn't be a simple man.

But he was… and he was Matt… and when she found out her perception of the world and her perception of him were distorted to such an extent that she knew she would lose herself if she gave into the grief she felt now.

After walking out of their first and last voluntary meeting, after he told her who he really was, Karen Page, for the first time in her life, felt true and utter despair. Because no matter what Foggy told her, and no matter what she told herself, she knew that nothing could be said to change him about his decision. "Words…" she'd tell herself, "I can convince him. I've convinced plenty of people to do plenty of things. I have a way with words, hell, I write for a living. One coffee, and I'll find...Someway...to change his mind. To see how crazy this all really is. To get a blind lawyer to stop playing hero. That's what we have the Avengers for, or the guy from Harlem, or even the kid with the glowing hand. Those people have power. Those people aren't Matt". At least that was her pep talk to herself before failing to convince him and herself of this.

She raised her hand and signaled a cab over jogging slightly in her heels to get away from his hearing range as quickly as possible, before her skipping heart beat made it obvious, before she couldn't hold tears in any longer. She muttered the direction of the newspaper, and the cab pulled away from the diner. The neon lights drifter furthur and furthur away, asn she pulled away from Matt as well and instead just looked out the window to the bleak-looking Kitchen. Kids walked along with their parents, steam jutted out of the sewers, Yelling and honking became the background noise of her own thoughts as she finally allowed herself to take in her meeting with Matt.

The despair she felt was because she realized that it wasn't a decision he had. It wasn't some choice he got to make, whether he wanted to be the man she knew walking around their pastry filled office, or the one who saved her in the alley, in what seemed like a lifetime ago… this wasn't a judgment call at all, and when she realized that, the emotions that felt like they were clutching her chest, and pulling her deeper into herself, into some dark hole Karen didn't have inside her before, took a hold of her. Despair, Hopelessness, Anger, Betrayal and Loss.

For all his talk against Castle he wasn't really all that different from him. Man and Vigilante weren't two sides of the same coin. It wasn't even a coin at all. It was all the same thing, they were just ingredients into making the person she knew, and she had just been too naive to think otherwise.

That despair she felt was because she realized her illusion of Matt Murdock was forever gone, and she didn't know if she had the strength to see him and meet a man she refused to see before.

But that was a long time ago…and Karen Page hated herself for not trying harder. Not being tougher, and finding the courage to face him again. Even if he was changed, or rather her perception of him was changed, she lost the chance of talking or even seeing him again. And when she looked up at Father Lantom's empty face she knew she wouldn't get another chance to tell him she was sorry for turning her back against him. For abandoning him. For telling him that at one point she loved him, even if she didn't realize it then. This and so much more...She wanted just the chance to say goodbye.

A chance she knew she wouldn't get.

Damn it, the despair she felt then meant that something like this would happen. Her and Foggy both knew it...that one morning Matt Murdock wouldn't be coming back. She had just been too afraid to think about it then, and that would be her greatest regret.

Reality seemed to slam into her too suddenly. The book closed and the church, that had been filled with just a soft glow, and the constant hums of the Father's words seemed almost ironically quiet compared to her thoughts, that never seemed to shut up these days. It had been only been a week, but time didn't move linear anymore. Two weeks since their little meeting. Two weeks since she last had hope for Matthew Murdock. And a week since she realized that the real fear, despair and pure pain and anguish lay at the bottom of thousands of pounds worth of rubble. "Don't let yourself think about that now. You do, and you'll be the one at the bottom of a pit" she finally willed herself back to the moment, mindful and taking in everything, no matter how overpowering it was for her.

She reached her hand over to Foggy's, and uncoiled it from the expensive looking suit he wore. He was so different now, dressed differently, smelled differently, but no matter how much his look changed according to his paycheck, he was still the same underneath it all. And everything she felt right now was for the time she knew Matt, a blink of an eye's worth compared to the history Foggy shared with him. Gathering her courage she looked at his soft eyes, almost unfocusing, the veins in them were thick giving them an almost red glow in this light. Had he slept since the incident? Had he, like her, cried more than they thought possible? "Foggy" her voice was barely audible, and wavered like the dying candles in front of the altar. With a deep breath she somehow found her voice again "Foggy… I-I know that it seems like a shitty offer but, I'm here for you. Whatever you need. Always" please don't shut me out, she wanted to add. After a nodd and a lapse of time she started talking again before she even realized it. "A few days before any...before all of this he met with me you know? I told him that we should figure ourselves out" each world was cut individually and raggedly by her anger and distraught emotions as they clawed their way into her throat. "He didn't regret it...being Daredevil. All he regretted was that he lost us in the process. And then...back at the uh- at the precinct office I just knew. I knew that he finally figured himself out. I think I saw it...Before then, and I know you did too I just didn't want to believe it. This wasn't a game for him. It wasn't some hobby. It was what he wanted, to protect the city and you and I and every other person in this room, he wanted to protect them. No matter the cost" she stopped and breathed heavily for a few moments, trying to get herself under control again, but managed to only wipe away at the tears at the base of her eyes. The thumping of her heart was loud and skipping beats, but she ignored it and focused on finishing. "He followed through with his promise to us - all of us. We have to respect his choice, no matter how much it hurts, And there's already been too much anger and too much loss tied into Daredevil for us to be part of that too. Just" she sighed knowing she sounded like a helpless little girl, but she couldn't help it, that's what she felt.

"Just promise me that we won't lose each other too Foggy" He looked at her with those sad wavering eyes that were too sunked into his face, and after what felt like forever his tense muscles dropped into a half-heartfelt smile and pulled her into a hug.

No more words were spoken between them that night. Any more words would require an energy neither of them could muster at the moment. Instead they just held ontop each other, using one another as a lifeboat, and let their tears seep into the other's shoulder. The honking and cursing noisy theme of Hell's Kitchen remained unchanged. The walls provided a thick barrier between them and it seemed far too distant. But it was there, Everyday Life, was just outside the door, remaining unchanged. A hero, fallen, and the only ones who really knew it, and the ones who knew the price that those unchanging songs of a neighborhood had cost, were sitting in an almost vacant church. The smell of incense, the soft candle light, and the interruption of her small sobs were what filled the room, one which should've housed everyone in New York.

They all owed something to Matt, each and every single New Yorker did, and they would never even know his name. But she knew, and Foggy knew and the Defenders and Father Lantom knew, and for now they would have to keep their promises to the Devil, and not forget his memory. That would be the price they paid.


	3. Chapter 3

" **Maybe I'm defective**

 **Or maybe I'm dumb**

 **I'm sorry, so sorry for what I've done**

 **Maybe I'm bad natured**

 **Or maybe I'm young**

 **I'm sorry, so sorry for what I've done"**

 **Sorry - Nothing But Thieves**

He down at his feet clenching his hands together and his feeling of not belonging was stronger than ever tonight. Around him people began getting up moving away, some to go back to their ordinary lives, try to move past events that would haunt them for who knows how long. Others to simply try and drink their issues away. And there were many many issues. None of this was right. He shouldn't be here. Danny Rand came back to prevent this. It was his duty. To stop the Hand from killing more innocent people, to stop them from spreading their delirious message across the world. To stop the chaos that followed the organization. He trained for this his whole life, and yet the Iron Fist was sitting here at a funeral without a body because he couldn't fulfill the role he thought he'd earned. The Sworn Protector of K'un Lun my ass. He couldn't save his city, everyone who took him in when he was a kid. Those who clothe him and fed him and trained him were simply...gone. Because he didn't do enough. He tried, he had trained and he had the power and ambition to do it. But like a cracked tea cup, it didn't matter because no matter how much he tried it wasn't enough, and the simple task he was meant to do just...failed.

He failed. His city, his mentors, and when he thought he had a chance to redeem himself what did Danny Rand do? He failed. Again. A new mentor, and a new friend. Dead.

Sure the Hand was defeated, their reign of terror and power that spread its way like a virus across the globe was struck down at its core. But no one was fooled. The so-called Iron Fist hadn't done that. He did it with the help of Jessica Jones, a sarcastic drunk with a stone punch and a heart of gold. He did it with Luke Cage, a man with a will as strong as his skin. And he did it with Daredevil, Matthew Murdock. Unlike the rest of their little group he had no powers. No way to defend himself from an army of trained ninjas or their immortal leaders. He had no super strength to punch back, no skin to stop their blades, and no Fist to end them. He had none of that. But Danny was damn proud to have met him, one of the best men he'd ever fought along side with, or known for that matter. He did what Danny couldn't; he gave his life to save, to protect.

The newspaper wrote about a group of New York's heroes, the Defenders. He took a liking to the name, it sounded proactive. Men and women ready to stop threats before they endanger others.

It sounded ironic after the end of their war against the Hand though.

He scratched the bottom of his beard itching to get his thoughts out of his head, but isn't that what you were supposed to do in a church? Reflect, and think back on your deeds, no matter if they were good or bad. And try to find penance, and a way to improve? At least that's what he thought it was about, he'd never been to church other for a few Christmas masses and baptisms when he was younger. But the more he thought about it the more he realized those were probably social engagements, for him the church didn't have a deeper connection than any other building would. From the short time he'd met Matthew he knew that that wasn't the case for him. His faith, and Father Lantom and the Sisters of the orphanage had saved him in the same way the monks had. Those ties, those sentiments of loyalty that were etched into their bones to the people who helped them when they needed it the most… that was something that Danny could relate too. He looked up when his hands and feet could no longer entertain his mind enough, and distract him, and turned his head away from the altar feeling like the intruder he was. Instead he watched from afar a heartbreaking scene. Hogarth's newest reclute, a man with a normally soft pinkish face was almost hidden from view. His shaggy hair covered his swollen eyes almost as much as the woman's shoulder did. From what he gathered from Jessica, who seemed to know Matt the best out of the three of them, he was his former legal partner. More importantly he had been his best friend for years. The woman holding him had been a legal aid in the office. He didn't know her very well, but knew that she must've been important enough to Matt to take to Misty during the incident. From afar she looked nearly the same as when he'd first seen her, and then again when they stood outside Midland Circle's rubble. A pressed skirt, a smooth blouse. From afar the blonde haired woman seemed professional and composed, a look he was sure was part of an act to hid what her face couldn't. It was puffy and shone with streaks of tears. When he caught her eyes for a moment, the blue in them seemed almost unnatural compared to the red that surrounded them. The pair from someone's point of view would seem like a neatly dressed and pampered pair if not for the faces. The hug however, the way the grasped each other like he had to his seat when his plane came down, told a different story. The two people who sat at the other edge of the building were utterly and completely heartbroken. They looked exactly like what had happened, two people who have lost their best friend.

A sob cut through the air and he looked away quickly, ashamed for having looked at such an obviously intimate and private moment. But that's what this whole thing was, this nearly empty memorial service. He shouldn't be here. He killed Matt, he was the one who failed so much that a hero, someone who actually helped and protected those he swore he would, paid the price for his stupid boyish mistakes. The air felt to thick, and the candlelight meant to provide comfort glowed mockingly to him. He felt like he couldn't breathe or see straight and rubbed at his eye to try and focus again. Colleen wrapped her arm around him and muttered something but the worlds just jumbled in his brain, and all he understood was a garble of gibberish in a soothing tone. The ringing in his ears was too much. An intruder, in a funeral that was his fault. He stood up too quickly and for a second the world seem to spin around him but he ignored it and walked to the side aisle as quietly and discreetly as he'd been taught. "Sorry but I- I have to go get some air Colleen. I'm sorry" he looked down and focused on her eyes gaining control of himself again. Really? He was the one who was about to get some sort of panic attack when he wasn't the one who had reason to. He closed his mouth and took deep and ragged breaths through his nose and looked down in her eyes. They were full of worry and confusion. The big brown eyes that had always helped calm and center him in the months since he'd met her. The familiarity of her face, her rosy cheeks, and a small freckle right above her lip. He took it all in and felt the calmness of the monastery crawl its way back to him. But no matter how much he tried, her soft face and calloused hand pinning his on the wooden bench couldn't make him feel any more comfortable that he had when he first stepped into the church. "I just need some air" he reassured her in a voice that sounded much more confident than how he felt.

He got up and walked alongside the edge to the central garden. Walking back to the city, and to the intensity that was New York seemed too much for the moment. All he wanted right now was some air and some quiet. Finally he stepped outside and the cold air slammed against him, electrifying all of his senses. His skin prickled and his eyes focused on the assortment of flowers that filled the space that he was sure would have been beautiful in the day time. Reaching a small stone bench, that was probably meant more for decoration than actual use, Danny climbed on top and crossed his legs with the full intention of taking the moment alone to try and meditate. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, trying to think about nothing. To let all his thoughts drift away from him, and to allow himself to center his chi again. Everything was so crazy at the moment, and he knew he desperately needed to get himself and his energy under control. But whenever his mind began to quiet, and the thoughts that blurred his clarity settled he came back to a recurring image of the collapsing building.

Instead he went back to one of his first lessons in K'un-lun. He remembered the monks, when they were teaching the young kids the reason as to why they meditate, would use a large inscribed brass bowl in the center of the room. The first time he'd seen it Danny was just beginning his training. His previous life back in New York, the way his family had been snatched against him, all of these thoughts lingered at the back of his mind, never settling, never allowing him to move forward, and instead cling onto them. So the monks filled the brass bowl with water and he and the others crowded around. "This is your mind" one would say "it is a tool, a weapon, and like a wild animal. In order to succeed in any task you must first train your mind, domesticate it, tame it. You cannot let it run wild" Then he did something that stuck with Danny through his years of training. He threw dirt into the clear water. The inscriptions that were so clear to read and appreciate, lay at the base of the bronze, now hidden from view under the murky brown water almost invisible to the children's eyes. "These are your thoughts. Few is fine. Few will not harm" he said as he sprinkled the last of the first into the mud water "for it is nearly impossible to have no thoughts. But if you do not control your mind, your thoughts, you will be overwhelmed. You will no longer be able to see the world with a clear mind, your thoughts will not allow this to happen. Many of you question why the Order of the Crane Mother has such emphasis on meditation. You ask yourselves if we are not entirely holy men, rather warriors, why sit instead of train. Meditation is not to have no thoughts, without self- consciousness, and not being mindful of oneself, where would we be as warriors and protectors? Meditation is the ability to be aware that your mind is clouded, and the willingness to tame your mind enough to settle your thoughts down" he looked back down to the bowl, and Danny peeled his eyes away from the monk draped in orange garments. The water was almost as clear as it had been before the dirt was thrown in there. Now it simply lay still at the bottom of the bowl, drifting down slowly, and the water returned to its pure form. "The thoughts are there, yes, but they no longer obscure your view. Children this is why meditation is vital, and not just an exercise. To harness your chi, to centre your chakras and energy, you must have a clear mind" he brought his finger to his shaven head "Clarity. A warrior's truest weapon isn't one he wields but is a tame mind, and the ability to see beyond himself"

He sighed and let his exhale fill the garden. He'd been given a new task, a new duty, and though he would not forget it was time to stop everything that had happened before and after the incident. To embrace it but move forward, with a clear mind. Matthew had died, he died an honorable death, one he deserved, one Danny wondered if he would as well. Saving his people. Protecting those he loved. They had all known the consequences and risks that came with facing the Hand head on, as well as the Black Sky. He knew that, and Matt had known that. So when they were standing around the lobby not knowing how to stop what was already underway, the Devil showed true bravery. He showed what a real hero was. A hero didn't have to be someone with powers, someone with a mantel handed to them, and a clear mapped way to save the day. A hero didn't even have to have a name, no one had to know who he was. A hero could be anyone willing to do the rights things, no matter the cost. And in all his life, Danny Rand had never met a better hero than Matthew Murdock. A man who helped save New York, and who knows how many other cities the Hand had under their influence. The people of Hell's Kitchen lost their savior, Danny and the rest of their group lost a leader and friend and those two sitting in the bench alone...well he imagined it felt like when he lost his parents. Stick was right when he said they could learn from each other. Up till now Danny had a sole purpose about his life, and about what he had to do. Now he had a newfound freedom to choose who to be. Matt's last lesson to him was simple; be a hero. Do all you can for those who can't. Expect nothing in return.

The Devil told him to protect his city, and you could be damn sure Danny Rand would honour his friend's wish.


End file.
